Hey, Hey, What Can I Do?
by That70sshowlova
Summary: Jackie, fed up with Stephen refusing to get a job, storms off to Red, but gets more than she expected.


Steven gripped me by the arm, pulling me away so the man couldn't hear us. "Are you nuts?" He demanded. He pointed lowly towards the man while saying, "That guy almost offered me a job."

My shoulders rose in disbelief. "So? What's wrong?"

"Did you hear him? The more you sell the more you earn. The more you sleep the more you earn! That's my job." He scowled at me and turned away. "Damn, woman!"

I started to follow after him, only to stop and glare at the ground. My eyes scoped out the booths, landing on one with an older man that was balding and giving a nervous boy an amused look.

"Mr. Forman!" I whined as I stood in front of him. "Steven won't get a job!"

He tried to give me a threatening stare, but only to find his attempt useless, as I was immune to it by now. "God, why do you always have to come to _me_?"

I rolled my eyes and glanced at the boy with the Donny Osmond haircut sitting in the chair. There was sweat on his brow and he cowered in fear from both of us. "Scram, Mama's boy! I need to talk to Mr. Forman."

He scurried off the chair and flew towards the exit. I grinned triumphantly and down on the chair. _Ew, I can feel his sweat!_

"Mr. Forman," I started again. "Steven w–"

"Don't even start. Unless you have something useful to say that will get me a stock boy; beat it."

I pouted, but then my eyes lit up. "I don't need Steven to get a job–"

"Oh yes you do." He interrupted. "He needs to get a job so he can support himself and get his ass out of my house!...And bring Dumbass with him."

I glared at him for interrupting me. "Ahem, I don't need Steven. I can support myself! I am a strong – ah, screw it. Mr. Forman, I can be your stock boy!"

He gave me an amused look. "You?"

"Yes, me!"

"Sorry, kid, but I'm looking for a stock _boy_."

I scowled. "Well, if you hadn't fired Eric like...like...Like a _dumbass_ then you wouldn't be having this problem!"

Mr. Forman leaned back in his chair, shocked by my outburst. "...I like you."

I smiled. "You know, Mr. Forman, I've always thought of you as a father figure...Especially since my father's in jail. Dumbass."

He grinned wider. "You're the only one in Eric's little group who has a strong head on their shoulders. You're going to be great in life! You're hired!"

I squealed. "Yay! I have a job!" I paused. "...I have a job. Oh my gosh, I have a _job!_ I'm so awesome!" I got up from my seat. "I have to go tell Steven!"

I walked through the crowd of highschoolers and finally set eyes on Steven. "Steven!"

He turned around to look at me. "No, Jackie. No."

I frowned. "Well, Steven, it's obvious that you don't want a job, but–"

"No. I'm just holding out for one with a cash register that has a lock that's very easy to jimmy."

"Oh, excuse me." I said as I bumped into a very sad looking man.

"It's okay, I probably deserved it." He mumbled and started to walk away.

Steven put a hand on the man's very cheap looking button-up shirt. "Roy?"

I stopped listening at that point. 'Roy' depressed me. Steven's friends always smelled like dope and cheapness. I nodded occasionally, pretending to listen. _I have a job! _Donna will be so proud of me.

"You don't like me, right?" His deep rumbling voice brought me out of my pride filled thoughts.

"Not really." I shook my head. Steven gave me a look. "But to be fair, I have very high standards."

"Yeah? She's really nice to you."

"–He'll just leave me like everyone else." Roy finished.

"So, Roy." I said awkwardly. "Seem a little depressed there..."

"Yeah...teetering on the brink."

Everything else was a smoke filled haze. I remember something about deviled eggs, but honestly, I don't want to know what I was thinking about.

"Mr. Forman?" I asked while walking into the kitchen.

"Jackie!" He said. "How's my stock girl?"

"Yeah...about that." I said. "Well, Steven got a job!"

"That's great!" He said enthusiastically. "Now he can finally get out of my house."

I nodded. "Well, the thing is...I can't be your stock girl anymore. Now that Steven has a job – as a chef! – he can finally support me and my shopping needs. Plus the fact that, a job involves working...And well, hello. Have you looked at me? I'm not the working type. Except the time when I sold cheese, but does that really count? I was desperate, and I didn't want to give up Michael, but looking back on it now, it was a pretty stupid idea. Seriously. What was I thinking? Giving up the constant money flow for that moron?"

"Jackie! Get to the point."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Forman. But you'll have to find a new stock boy." With that said, I walked out of the swinging living room/kitchen door.

"Damn." I heard him growl. The kitchen sliding door opened and shut. "Hey, you, Dumbass! Want a job?"

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><p><strong>It's rather ironic that my pen name is That70sshowlova and That '70s Show has to be one of the greatest shows in all time, but I still haven't written any fiction for it. Well, here it is. Thanks for reading and reviewing. I hope you enjoyed it!<strong>


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